A Daughter of To-Day eBook

Kendal mounted to Elfrida’s appartement
in the Rue Porte Royale to verify the intimation of
her departure, or happily to forestall its execution
the morning after her note reached him. He found
it bare and dusty. A workman was mending the
stove; the concierge stood looking on, with her arms
folded above the most striking feature of her personality.
Every vestige of Elfrida was gone, and the tall windows
were open, letting the raw February air blow through.
Outside the sunlight lay in squares and triangles
on the roofs, and gave the place its finishing touch
of characterlessness. Yes, truly, mademoiselle
had gone, the evening before. Was monsieur then
not aware? The concierge was of opinion that
mademoiselle had had bad news, but her tone implied
that no news could be quite bad enough to justify
the throwing up of such desirable apartments upon
such short notice. Mademoiselle had left in such
haste that she had forgotten both to say where she
was going and to leave an address for letters; and
it would not be easy to surpass the consciousness
of injury with which the concierge demanded what she
was to say to the facteur on the day of the
post from America, when there were always four or five
letters for mademoiselle. Monsieur would be bien
amiable, if he would allow that they should be
directed to him. Upon reflection monsieur declined
this responsibility. With the faintest ripple
of resentment at being left out of Elfrida’s
confidence, he stated to himself that it would be
intrusive. He advised the concierge to keep them
for a week or two, during which Miss Bell would be
sure to remember to send for them, and turned to go.

“Mademoiselle est allee a la Gare du Nord,”
added the concierge, entirely aware that she was contributing
a fact to Kendal’s mental speculation, and wishing
it had a greater intrinsic value. But Kendal
merely raised his eyebrows in polite acknowledgment
of unimportant information. “En effet!”
he said, and went away. Nevertheless he could
not help reflecting that Gare du Nord probably
meant Calais, and Calais doubtless meant England,
probably London. As he thought of it he assured
himself that it was London, and his irritation vanished
at the thought of the futility of Elfrida in London.
It gave him a half curious, half solicitous amusement
instead. He pictured her with her Hungarian peasant’s
cloak and any one of her fantastic hats in the conventional
highways he knew so well, and smiled. “She
will have to take herself differently there,”
he reflected, without pausing to consider exactly
what he meant by it, “and she’ll find
that a bore.” As yet he himself had never
taken her differently so far as he was aware, and
in spite of the obvious provocation of her behavior
it did not occur to him to do it now. He reflected
with a shade of satisfaction that she knew his London
address. When she saw quite fit she would doubtless
inform him as to what she was doing and where she